Surface of Mercury

Psyis blinked as the teleportation energies slowly subsided, the bright glow of mystic forces drawing back into the magic circle at her feet. Looking up into the darkness, unable to see exactly what was around aside from a cone of blue light that was cast on a metal wall several stories above her. The ambient reflected light casting dim diamond shaped shadows as it passed through the grates Izime was walking on.

"Bit a light Izzy?" Constantinople was about to start feeling around in the dark until he remembered where he was. Not wanting to start knocking boxes full of junk off of shelves that Izime would make him clean he simply asked.

"I'm getting to it!" Izime's voice came down from above where a blue cone of light revealed his location, the beam adjusting to focus on a lever still a good distance down the gangway he was walking on. The sound of Izime walking across the grating carrying through the hold for a moment until Constantinople's impatient voice broke the cadence once more.

"Can I ca-" Constantinople raised his hands before pausing to ask about using a quick spell to give a bit of light. Recalling that some of the things stored here in Izime's ship probably weren't going to well to sudden changes in temperature.

"No fire please!" Izime's warning coming back echoing slightly in what sounded like a long room. That blue light already a ways away but still turned back to chastise the exorcist. "You are standing in a massive cargo hold with several tons of liquid fear toxin and about a hundred other flammables."

Psyis' eyes finally found a bit of something to focus on as a glow formed beside her, turning to see Constantinople with a smile on his face and a spell between his palms. Hands emitting a soft yellow glow, the exorcist just nodding for her to direct her attention towards the fore of the hold.

"No fires, I can do that..." Constantinople ignored Izime's warning as he adjusted the spell he had in mind. Giving a quick chant into his cupped palms the exorcist flourished both hands, "Spiritus in stellae lumine diffunduntur!"

There were plenty of non-fire based spells he could use to light the room up, Constantinople deciding the illusion star-spell was an excellent choice for what he needed. The tiny specks of light flying out in a million tiny sparkles, the tiny stars lighting the cargo hold as they grew into their own little cosmos.

"She's a right beaut, watch this." The exorcist revealing a treat far more impressive for the Thessian than the nothing Izime had prepared.

Constantinople giving another bigger smile at Psyis as the walls of the cargo hold came into view, watching the alien's reaction to the far traveled functional work of art that Izime called a shop. Her red eyes widening as the extent of Izime's efforts and travels were revealed along the walls of the cargo hauler.

The lower level's wall covered in thousands of tiny drawings and doodles, stick blobs and forms added by children idling why their parents shopped the holds of far flying hauler. The layers and years slowly forming an intricate mural out of the thousands of individual arts that reached up in a combined wave. Growing in intricacy as it climbed the walls, the space doodles slowly losing their simple style as the artists were older.Turning into more detailed and creative figures, tags from gangs of alien teens and smaller murals of locations.

Names and stellar dates listed the lost in memorandum, while carefully hidden personal notes of loss were tucked away in the dark corners of the store.

Constantinople glad he had gotten to the lights first, if only for the sake of being an unwanted wingman. Glancing at the more than slightly impressed Thessian who was obviously admiring the mass of artworks.

The exorcist knowing full well the sterile overhead lighting sold the entire atmosphere of the hold short, the place long ago having transformed from simply being cargo storage. Now something like the star-bound version of his own House of Curiosities; it felt magical and nearly timeless.The atmosphere and walls holding their own unique mystique that filled the long spaces, vast but narrow.

The final specks of light reaching the far end of the hold to reveal the piece de 'resistance.

A beautifully painted singularity that covered the entire multistory wall, an expertly painted warping of darkness and light. The accretion entangling with a brilliant green swirl. Both the Thessian and the exorcist finding the view to both inspire with its grandeur as well as send a shiver through their very bones. The depths of that black paint seeming too deep, tangling green a hue un-placeable in that star-white accretion that could never dim. Impossible as it seemed, there it was dimming in an angry flare as that captured starlight was devoured by the sickly unrecognizable green.

Psyis breaking her attention free as Izime's snort echoed across the barren ceiling, a lever being thrown. The noise heard ruining any chance of recapturing the moment as Izime's sterile effectiveness warded it away. The overhead lights snapping on in rows as the hum of electricity filled the room between the pops of activating connectors.

"The shop of the king of knickknacks." Constantinople gestured as he walked forward towards the open area that held the larger for sale items in the back. Their current area being at the entrance where the landing ramp was raised. The exorcist reaching out and plucking the odd object off the shelf to examine before tossing it back into a random box on a different shelf.

"Everything here's for sale!" Izime smiled down at the thessian among the shelves looking up as he offered to sell her anything she could possibly want. Quite the offer considering some of the rare oddities he'd found, Izime began his grand introduction only to be cut off, "Welcome to the sh-"

"Constantinople already told me!" Psyis gave her own snort watching Izime's arms drop in disappointment. Firing back a question of her own, "I thought you didn't do names, oh great Lord?"

"Don't call me that. I don't do hero or villain names; we've talked about that over noodles." Izime tried to keep his voice from being snappy, instead giving a spin as he put more effort into showboating for the two. "But you've got to admit if there is anyone who deserves the title King of Knickknacks, you've got to admit, its me!"

Izime finding his mood hit with a cold splash of water at the change in title, kicking himself for being so emotional. Knowing that even his own smile had fallen a bit at the word, Psyis having no clue how much he hated the title. He'd had to turn away quickly, readjusting his mood to something a bit more fitting for hosting guests. Psyis had already been concerned about causing issues so it be best to just play it off.

"King of Crap more like, be honest with her!" Constantinople chimed in, giving Izime a teasing look giving a slight nod behind him, not even bothering to think about calling his friend out for showing off.

Constantinople giving a slight sideways nod back through the aisles towards the alien Izime had just been trying to impress. If the two could have noodles and talk then they could do the same damned thing while he was here. The exorcist wanted to get a better gauge of just how badly Izime was being taken in by the alien. The man could make his own decisions, but every guy knew that first step was always a doozy; Constantinople just wanted to be involved if Izime's first relationship went sour.

"I am not..." Izime started to fire back until he caught Constantinople's glance towards the Thessian making the connection to what Constantinople wanted him to be honest over. Izime realizing that the exorcist wasn't calling him out on his shop but his joking with Psyis. He was claiming Izime had gone a bit past joking over the course of the night.

"Fuck off Constantinople, you ruin everything." Cursing at the exorcist, Izime blamed him for something that certainly wasn't his fault, quickly turning to walk back down the long gangway. Teal eyes watching the walls as Izime's legs worked double time, hoping his embarrassment was burned away by the time he reached the tanks of toxin.

It had been a lifetime since Izime had felt this level of personal embarrassment, having totally flubbed a simulation so simple that the answer was already in front of him. Infinitely glad the psychic couldn't read his mind at this moment, Izime replaying every second with her in his mind. The casual way he'd been observing her, thinking about her had led to a level of comfort that just couldn't exist between them. Of course, Constantinople had given them both that shit eating grin on the balcony at Luck Dog's, they'd were close enough it could have been a date already.

Izime stopping for a second to take an uneasy breath rubbing at his face, firmly taking a mental step back from his earlier carefree attitude. There couldn't be any kind of attachment to a scripted player, things need to be kept strictly business. Nothing personal, if those heroes or villains found out what he was, the risks involved would skyrocket; for both him and this world.

Izime knew he was already toeing the line involving himself with the heroes; hell, any of the major players at all. This world had a script it needed to follow, one that he couldn't interfere with. He was the butterfly and had the burden of keeping track of his effects, even the capabilities to do so. The line between not destroying something he could make better, while following Bell's wishes was a very tight rope to walk.

Izime gave nod, walking more confidently in the decisions he had made years back. The rules and reasons behind the business only attitude he gave everyone but Wesson and Shya. Those two he'd flap those wings for but only ever so slightly, the two who'd made a space for him in their home. Izime already forgetting he'd already invited the psychic wandering the hold to visit that side of his life.

Below Psyis browsed lazily heading towards the front, looking around checking the contents of the boxes on the shelves and simply glancing to read the labels on a few others. The main products near the large entrance at the rear seemed to be preserved rations, in varying degrees of nutrition. From a few boxes of earth-produced M.R.E.'s from various countries to shelves full of the much less healthy Jovian Caloric-Cubes and shelves for every species in-between.

The heroine quickly surmising the layout of Izime's cargo hold from where she'd appeared, the convenient space that fit a teleportation spell perfectly served another purpose. These were near the front ramp where there was just enough space to minimize the danger of crowing in a rush. The psychic recalling Constantinople's thoughts as he'd revealed the hold.

Imaging the starving and destitute clamoring for the necessities of survival. Izime standing above appearing like a savior, only asking that they trade, for whatever they'd had even if it was a doodle.

Other shelves further in held boxes full of various gas filters and scrubbers, oxygen-based ones only taking up a small section. Others seemed to focus things such as nitrogen or ammonia, Psyis imagining creatures she'd never heard of roaming the shelves just like her.

Psyis just passing a few boxes labeled multi-purpose filters. The devices looking rather janky with a fabric housing and weird exhaust port for a third pipe. The thessian pausing as she tried to figure out which was the inlet, the outlet, and the overflow. She examined the arrows on the pipes confused. The other labels making even less sense as it was obvious the oxygen wasn't included with these particular filters.

Finally placing it back in the box Psyis moved further in, the shelves now having locking cages instead of the magnetically bound boxes. Obviously full of pricier and heavier objects, ingots of various high strength steels and rarer metals were safely locked inside. As well as various boxes labels ranging from traps, to electronics, and even containers of liquids; all secured safely.

The whine of an artificially produced gravity field growing and dimming as Psyis passed by the shelves not bothering to read those labels. Her attention no longer on the items on the shelves but watching the black leather coat that was walking through the aisles across from her. Psyis not sure why watching the store owner was more interesting than actually browsing the goods, but he kept her attention all the same.

Circling around the corner of a shelf Psyis got behind him in the same row. Watching as Izime occasionally tapped at a lock, the oddly simple master-locks making a quiet tinking sound as they swung back. Izime seemingly unaware she was there at all, Psyis about to say something until a movement to her side startled her, only managing a slightly startled squeak.

Cradles head tilting just as confused as Psyis was at the odd sound which had escaped purple lips that were now swiftly darkening to blue. The thessian mentally berating herself and nearly physically kicking herself for following Izime so stupidly, of course Cradle would be there. Psyis looked up, unsurprised to see Izime glancing back at her after hearing the noise. Though he looked a bit tenser to be in the aisle with her than Psyis had been embarrassed after squeaking at him; something she found a bit surprising.

"Did you actually find something you wanted?" Izime asked unsure, Psyis hands empty as both Cradle and her seemed to be looking at him expectantly. Only hearing the noise of surprise turning to find Psyis, he wasn't quite sure when she had gotten behind him. Maybe he had just been distracted, too occupied with reminding himself where his spot in life was. Cradles lack of warning,

"Izime, King of Knickknacks. If you have to have a silly name," To self-conscious of his own idiotic unaware flirting earlier Izime quickly stuck out his hand wanting to quickly label the aliens place in his life. The narrow shelves and his own admonishing thoughts made Izime want to put some more space between them in every sense. "Hopefully this makes us even for the run around with Dark Night."

Psyis looked at the hand in front of her, eye furrowing in confusion reaching out slowly to take the hand of the man she had been teasingly punching earlier. Watching as that tension seemed to leave Izime's face as her own blue hand filled his. Psyis listening as he continued, unsure of just what had brought on this change in attitude.

"No gun's, bombs, or otherwise on my shelves as you can see Miss Psyis." Izime realized he didn't feel any better after this second proper introduction. Though he'd finally decided on how he'd treat her; the same way he did Constantinople. "So, I guess I'm glad to have met a new friend from Centropolis."

Izime already removing the thessian from his life post Shya's meet and greet. They might run into each-other once in a blue moon but honestly how often was the celebrity heroine in a soup kitchen or visiting a shelter. It would be incredibly easy to just avoid the psychic without making any of it seem personal. Izime trying to convince himself that it wasn't personal at all, just the safer sensible choice.

"Glad to be your friend Izime." Psyis smiled a bit as she returned the handshake. The opinions she'd been forming on Izime stumbling a bit as she admitted Constantinople probably had a valid point, probably several actually. His hand leaving hers as he turned, his shoes squeaking a bit against the metal as he left her in the shelves.

"You can just keep calling me Psyis." Psyis tried once more her voice a bit quieter in the aisle, again reiterating that Izime didn't need to treat her so formally. The thessian wondering if using that title wasn't a form of disrespect so much as Izime drawing a line between them. She had a 'silly name' and he didn't; she was a hero, and he wasn't.

The alien feeling more like she had just met Izime during work hours, not just left a bar after a few drinks. The odd flip confusing her enough to even give Cradle a glance after Izime walked away towards the front of the hold. The bird's eyes still on Izime's back, only giving a slight twist as Cradle considered her for a second before flying after him. Psyis looking back wondering if anyone really knew what Izime was thinking or felt, the man in question long gone from her view.